Dip your hand in the cool seawater and hear the gulls rhythmic cries. If you're me, you'll flap your towel to scare the buggers away from your snack. Days here are unplanned. Boats slide across our vista silently. We find blueberry bushes along the trails, and beaver lodges. The late sun bleaches the grass tips and leaks into the wooded paths. There are shops to scan, deserted cottages to spy out. Mostly, the water whirs and whistles against the rocks where we sit on towels in the sun readin…
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